What Derek doesn't know
by Hoechy
Summary: IN PROGRESS / Derek is captured by the nogitsune and is restrained in his loft. The nogitsune knows something that Derek doesn't. It's something that at first seems unexpected, but when Derek thinks about it, it's not. How will the nogitsune's knowledge of that affect Derek?
1. Chapter 1

Derek came to in his loft. It takes a lot to knock the werewolf out - not much gets passed him, but this time something did. Something cunning. He looked around, tried to move. He was tied to a chair, his hands bound with a rope that sizzled every time he moved in it. It seemed to be have once been soaked in wolfsbane water which had since dried. Fortunately that meant the sting was slightly more bearable, but still rendered him incapable of breaking free

"Are you going to come out and grace me with your presence?" He said to the empty darkness as if this was just some minor inconvenience. At that announcement he heard a familiar soft chuckle, and out walked a disheveled, tired looking Stiles from the shadows.

Derek's eyes pursed, trying to tell if there was a hint of the real Stiles was there. The chuckle continued. "Nope. Sorry, Derek. Stiles is...away at the moment," the nogitsune teased.

That seemed to anger Derek who responded hoarsely by asking "well what do you want then?"

The nogitsune looked back at Derek. It began to move towards him, slowly, unstably, as if were a ghost dancing in the wind. It circled him a few times, running its hands over his broad shoulders, until it came to a stop in front of him. It bent down so it and the werewolf were staring eye-to-eye only inches away from each other. "Well, I just want to have some fun, Derek," it said. It was eerie how much like Stiles it sounded just then.

"Well, sorry to be the one to tell you, but this party you're throwing...it's kind of dead, and I'm not really having much fun."

"Oh, but you will, Derek," the nogitsune smirked. "You see, I have Peter preoccupied." At the sound of his uncle's name, Derek pulled against the ropes, making him wince, but forced himself to not say anything. The nogitsune clicked its tongue, "that was silly." It continued to dance around the room, now running its hand over possessions of Derek's. The walls and beams as well. Anything, really, like it was marking territory by doing so. "And Cora. So feisty. Sarcastic, too, you know," it chuckled, "like Stiles."

Derek remained silent. He knew responding to these threats, which he hoped were empty ones, is just what the nogitsune wanted. Pain. Strife. Chaos. Suffering. Anarchy.

The nogitsune was expecting this, and being the cunning fox that is was renowned for, it was no surprise that it began on a different, more direct tangent. "The strong silent thing you've got going. It's what I'd expect, you know. From someone in your situation, that is." It stopped moving to twirl on its heels and look back at Derek. "Someone whose whole family died in a fire set by their lover," it said as it cocked its head then paused. "How stupid of you."

Derek's breath was becoming heavy, but he remained resolute in his silence. "And then to make it worse, the next person you court is a virgin-killing darach?" The nogitsune looked up, seemingly confused. "Do you have a thing for psychos, Derek?" It laughed. "I imagine it would be hard to get close to anybody after that. But you've managed, haven't you? Look at you, with your faux pack of teenagers. Got yourself some werewolves, a banshee, and a kitsune. How cute." It quickly moved back in close to Derek, making him rear back in the chair. "Do you trust them?" It queried intently. When Derek didn't respond, it repeated "DO YOU TRUST THEM," shouting.

"I do," he answered reluctantly.

The nogitsune smiled as it took a few steps back. "Of course. That's your thing. Trust anything that shows you a shred of kindness. Right?" Derek huffed under his breath. "What, no witty quip this time?" The nogitsune seemed slightly disappointed with Derek's lack of response. "You think they don't care about you, don't you, Derek?" He looked up at the nogitsune, a look of admission that he did think that, on his face. "Oh boy," it chuckled, "you don't know then…" It paused.

"Stiles is in love with you, Derek."


	2. Chapter 2

Derek froze at the nogitsune's comment. Was it joking? It could be. That's what it does, right? It plays tricks on anybody and everybody. It just wants a reaction... But what if it wasn't? All these thoughts were pouring through Derek's head. He couldn't speak, he stayed silent, his eyes darting from side-to-side, as if he was looking for answers on the ground; answers that didn't appear.

The nogitsune smiled. "Oh, Derek. I'm a trickster, but I'm not mean enough to make something like this up. Little Stiles, he's in here, you know. I know everything about him. I know his deepest, darkest secrets. I know his fears. I know things he probably doesn't even remember. And he does love you. But he doesn't think you feel the same." The nogitsune was definitely enjoying taunting Derek with these revelations; Derek who was still sitting there stunned, not quite sure what to do. "I think you do care for him, though, Derek. Even if he can't see it."

Derek looked up, pain in his eyes.

The fox was now sitting across the room on Derek's bed. "Don't worry," the nogitsune winked, "he can't hear us. Your secret's safe with me...for now," it said with a mischievous smile. "At least you picked one who isn't a psychotic murderer this time."

It reclined, sprawling itself out over the silky sheets, as it changed the tone of the conversation to something more bawdy. "He longs for this," it said with a chuckle, continuing to wrinkle every inch of the bedding while caressing itself, teasingly pulling the shirt it was wearing (which was Stiles') part way up its chest.

That's something Stiles would do, Derek thought. The awkward, sarcastic kid who could (even though he probably shouldn't have, half the time) made a joke out of anything; turn the awkwardest of conversations into something even more awkward, but something so awkward that it became funny in some twisted way. The nogitsune was right, Derek did care for Stiles in that way. As more than a friend; differently to a brother.

"I don't want to hurt Stiles, Derek," the fox wearing Stiles' body started out, "well, not yet at least. But you're a smart cookie – that's what Stiles would say, anyway – so you know what I thrive on." Its stare was penetrating. Derek could feel it on his face as if was a laser. "What I need to survive."

"Pain," Derek responded.

"That's right," it said, "and there's no better kind of pain than that of someone seeing their lover in pain." A look of confusion overcame its face. "Well, in your case, want-to-be-lover." The fox squatted in front of Derek, who's head was still hanging low as he was restrained in the chair. The nogitsune, like it was a puppy looking for attention, stuck its face right in front of Derek's. With a smile on its face, it said "so you know what I'm going to do?" Derek didn't respond. "I'm going to let Stiles come out, just for a little while, just enough so that he can see you and me have some fun. How'zat sound, Derek?"

The nogitsune excitedly got up and moved over to Stiles' bag which it must have "commandeered". It pulled out a leather-looking towel-like bag. He sprawled it out on a table and opened it. Inside lay an array – a plethora – of sharp instruments. Some medical, some crudely made, some just your typical gardening product. But all of which looked like they'd be able to inflict some serious pain on a restrained werewolf.


	3. Chapter 3

The nogitsune started making deep cuts in Derek's skin. It ran a scalpel from the sleeve of his arm all the way down to his fingers. It pried at the cut, sadistically, pulling the flesh apart as to increase the amount of blood that escaped from the wound. Once it was content that it had caused sufficient injury to that part of Derek's body, as indicated by a satisfied smirk that grew on its face, it moved to stand in front of the werewolf. It pulled his head up using his duck-tailed hair as a crude handle, revealing the tight, sweaty skin of his neck and torso. It looked him in the eye before jabbing the scalpel viciously into the space below the bone under his neck.

"I'm glad you heal so quickly, Derek, or this would get boring rather quickly," it said, removing the scalpel and wiping it on its pant leg. "I don't want to be a spoil sport or anything, but I don't think Stiles is quite enjoying the performance. I don't think he's the 'watch' kind of guy, I think he likes getting in on the action." It's mouth fell open as if it just had a brilliant idea. "I know," it said excitedly, "bite me!" Derek stared back, confused. His wounds were showing slight signs that they were beginning to heal. "Yea, bite me!" the fox repeated. "Stiles is into biting, you know. Probably not in the sense of what I've got in mind, but he'd be okay with it, I'm sure."

"I'm not going to bite Stiles," Derek responded through gritted teeth. Despite him being tied up he obviously still had control over his mouth, and he was most definitely not going to open it and willingly clench his could-be werewolf fangs down onto skinny Stiles's arm.

The nogitsune looked back at him disappointed. It shucked, "well I guess that's out of the question then. I guess I'll just take a seat until you change your mind." It grabs one of the other seats from the loft and the bag, which rattled when it was picked up, and perched itself out of Derek's view, behind it. It began to rummage through the bag, occasionally picking out the odd book or piece of paper, holding it up to the light and inspecting it. It huffed once it seemed to have been through everything in the Stiles's backpack and things went quiet as it sat still.

Derek began to query what was happening. He could only see behind him so far behind him and every time he tried to take a look the nogitsune would either throw something at him or kick the back of his chair.

About five more minutes had passed and Derek was getting ready to 'make a move' when the fox wearing the boy's body stood up and positioned itself right behind Derek, so close that even if Derek turned his head he wouldn't be able to make anything out.

Out of nowhere, a searing pain struck Derek's shoulder – a combination of fire and electricity – and it burned and no doubt would have left a permanent mark if he were not able to heal. Instinctively, like a reflex, he roared in pain; his eyes turned their familiar shade of blue, his claws extended from his hands in their restraints, and his fangs grew out from his teeth. The nogitsune knew exactly that this is the reaction it would illicit from Derek if it were to taser a soft spot on his neck, so as soon as Derek's mouth opened, the fox whipped Stiles's arm around and pulled it against his mouth. Everything happened so quickly that Derek didn't have time to realise what had happened before he clenched his mouth shut – fangs and all – down on the pale white arm.

The nogitsune let out a shrill, piercing, gut-wrenching scream that echoed throughout the loft and probably throughout the rest of the building, not that anybody would pay any attention, because weirder things have been heard coming from that loft and have never roused any outside attention before.

Derek's fangs retracted, along with his claws, as soon as he understood what had happened, but it was too late, the boy, definitely boy now, no nogitsune, was on the floor grasping his arm which had two very distinct holes in it, despite the river of blood that was covering the length of his arm, as well as his shirt, and beginning to pool on the floor. A look of pure guilt contorted itself onto Derek's face as he saw Stiles fall to the ground in front of him screaming and crying in pain. "Stiles," he shouted, "Stiles! I'm so sorry!" But the boy wasn't listening. He was just writhing in his own pool of blood, eyes clenched shut. Derek pulled against his restraints, wanting, _needing_, to do everything he can to help.

When his arm started to go numb from blood loss and the pain began to subside, Stiles looked up at Derek, pain in his eyes alongside tears. "Why'd you do this to me, Derek," he asked pleadingly, "why'd you hurt me, Derek? What'd I do to you? I've only ever helped you. I wanted to be your friend. I thought we were friends?" Derek looked back at him blankly, but not in a confused sense, in a 'it's all true and I don't know how to tell you' sense. "I loved you, Derek. Don't you love me," he asks, as tears roll down his face.

"I–I..I," Derek stuttered, "I do."

As soon as he finished the sentence; as quickly and as unexpectedly as the taser trick, Stiles stopped crying. His lips stop quivering and they became as unemotional as his eyes. It looked like someone could have dropped dead in front of him and he wouldn't have flinched. Then, freakily, his mouth turned into a giant smile, like a clown, and it began cackling. "Oh, Derek. You fell for that hook, line, and sinker," but before Derek got a chance to respond it continued. "Don't worry, though," it said with a wink, "he felt the real pain, and he was there for a second." The nogitsune was back, and it held up its arm – the one that Derek bit – and it was punctureless; no bite marks, and the blood that was coating it and the floor was gone.


End file.
